


All The Things We Are

by sysrae



Series: Becoming Us [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Blink and you'll miss it praise kink, Character Study with Porn, Christmas, Fluff, Hand Jobs, I have no idea how the fuck to tag this, M/M, Masturbation, New Relationship, Porn with Feelings, Sequel, blink and you'll miss it feminisation, boys discussing things, self-indeulgent callback to an earlier conversation, slight kink negotiation after the fact, slightly genderqueer nursey, why am i like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 06:19:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8879254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sysrae/pseuds/sysrae
Summary: Dex and Nursey spend Christmas together. Talking leads to feelings, feelings lead to porn, and porn leads first to nebulous kink discussions and then back to feelings again. OR SOMETHING. aka the sequel fic to I Know I Am, But What Are You? that people technically asked for but probably envisioned as something other than this.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> IT'S 3.30AM AND I'M A HUMAN DISASTER, OKAY? WORK WITH ME HERE.

Nursey wakes on Christmas morning to a sense of peace, the anticipation of snowfall and the sight of Dex sprawled warmly in his bed. He’s used to the first two things under certain conditions, but being with Dex is new, and now that he’s allowed to look, allowed to touch, there’s nothing to stop him running a hand through Dex’s hair, smiling as the rucked sheets shift to show more of Dex’s very muscular back. There’s an absurd, momentary sense of being a naturalist, one of those zoological experts who spends their life winning the trust of a lion pride or a pack of wolves in order to get close to them without fear of reprisal. Dex is 6’2 and big all over: strong arms, thick thighs, and a shoulder to waist radio – the former stupidly broad, the latter blessed with a mesmerising Adonis belt – that has, on occasion, produced in Nursey a strong desire to sit the fuck down and fan himself, preferably while sipping iced tea. Dex might not be a lion, but he’s certainly leonine in all the right ways. _Lord have mercy._

Nursey watches a moment longer, then gets out of bed and pads quietly to the bathroom. When he comes back, Dex is still asleep and the clock on his bedside table reads 09:44. Nursey sighs. Dex’s family are likely awake by now, and assuming they’d entertained the idea of Dex and Nursey coming back before Christmas day, they must be disabused of it by now. He glances at Dex’s phone, still turned off in avoidance of the inevitable confrontation, and maybe Nursey, who loves his parents, ought to feel more of a pang about Dex’s break with his own, but after what he saw of them –

He shakes his head, banishing the thought. The Poindexters are Nursey’s problem only inasmuch he loves Dex and wants him to be happy: dwelling on them while Dex is asleep is therefore unproductive. Instead, Nursey turns his attention to the more practical issue of clothes. He didn’t bring many with him, but he always keeps a stock of outfits in his old wardrobe here. He has sudden, festive urge to try and look nice for Dex. Not that Dex is really much for fashion, but as he contemplates the various options, Nursey finds himself getting frustrated: nothing here is _right_ , it’s not what he wants and his skin is itching –

 _Oh,_ he thinks, feeling it click into place. _It’s a soft day._  

He swallows, casting a furtive glance at Dex. He hasn’t so much as stirred, which somehow makes things easier than if he was awake. Nursey feels briefly guilty about that, the hairfine tug of an insecurity kept so firmly buried that he scarcely ever admits to feeling it, even to himself. But then, he’s never had to acknowledge the source of it to anyone else, either, which is surely an extenuating circumstance. He moves his hand to a different drawer and hovers it there, a sudden spike of worry in his throat. What if Dex doesn’t like it? What if Dex thinks less of him for it? Then:

 _Come the fuck on,_ he tells himself, his inner voice eerily reminiscent of Shitty’s. _This is_ Dex, _the guy who physically threw a lax bro into a snowdrift for talking shit about Bitty’s puck bunny costume. Yeah, he said some dumb shit in frog year, but there was a time, Derek Malik Nurse, when you unironically listened to Bring Me To Life by Evanescence on repeat for a day and a half. Judge not, lest ye be judged._

Nursey takes a breath, pulls open the drawer, and pulls out what he needs.


	2. Chapter 2

Dex wakes to the scent of breakfast cooking, and for a moment, he thinks he’s back in his childhood home. Panicked, he sits bolt upright– his parents will judge him for lazing around on Christmas day, his siblings will jump on him any moment – before he remembers where he is, and why. A lump forms in his throat; he swallows hard, pulse settling as he takes in the now-familiar sight of Nursey’s bedroom.

Nursey.

A slow smile spreads across his face, the ache in his stomach abating almost as quickly as it came. If he smells breakfast, it’s because Nursey woke up early to cook for them both, and Dex has never been one for sappy domestic fantasies but, well. It’s Christmas, and it’s Nursey, and apparently that’s his kryptonite.

Treating himself to a quick shower – the brownstone’s water pressure is frankly phenomenal – Dex slips into his sleep pants, considers but ultimately decides against wearing a shirt thanks to the equally phenomenal central heating, and heads downstairs to the kitchen.

“What’s cooking, Nursey?” he calls, rounding the corner from the hallway. “Because whatever it is, it smells –”

Dex falters to a standstill, staring openly.

Nursey is wearing a skirt, and nothing _but_ a skirt: a long, wrap-around thing that hugs the lowest line of his hips and flutters around his ankles. It’s burnt orange with black and gold designs, setting off the warm brown of his skin. A gold necklace brushes against his pecs, a simple gold drop on a thin gold chain that matches the hoops in his ears. Dex knew Nursey’s ears were pierced – has seen him wearing bars and studs on various occasions – but there’s something about the hoops in combination with the necklace that makes a low heat coil in his gut. And he’s done something to his hair, too, he realises: it looks longer than usual, the wavy curls brushed long and loose instead of scrunched up tight with product. Looped behind his ears, his hair falls to just below his jaw, softening the line of it. Nursey is frozen in place, a spatula in had as he stares right back at Dex.

“– amazing,” Dex breathes. He gulps, raking his gaze greedily over Derek Nurse. “Shit, Nursey,” he says, coming up to set his hands on Nursey’s hips, thumbs stroking possessively across the bone, through the fabric. “You’re fucking gorgeous like this.” He grins. “Merry Christmas to me, huh?”

Nursey makes a noise in his throat. He sets the spatula down on the bench, turns off the gas – Dex still doesn’t know what he’s cooking – and says, in a voice that’s almost his normal one, “You, uh. You don’t mind?” And then, softer still, “You like it?”

Dex wrenches his gaze from Nursey’s chest to his face, taking in the scared green eyes, the tremble of his mouth. Nursey looks as vulnerable as Dex has ever seen him, and just the fact that Nursey is _letting_ him see it – that he trusts Dex enough not to try and hide – makes Dex’s heart squeeze in his chest.

“Nursey,” he says, voice reverent, hands coming up to cup his face, “I love you. All of you. Of _course_ I like it.” He kisses him gently, grinning when he pulls back again. “Besides, do you have any idea how hot you are like this? I mean, I don’t really have a lot of, uh, knowledge of genderfuckery, so I don’t know if it’s just a you-thing or a hot-guys-in-skirts thing, but either way, it’s definitely working for me.”

Nursey laughs, the sound cracked with relief. His words come out in a rush, as close to inarticulate as Dex has ever heard him. “I wasn’t sure – I’ve never, for anyone to see, I, I’ve never properly done this, but I woke up this morning and I have these days, sometimes, soft days, where it just feels right –”

Dex leans in and kisses the corner of Nursey’s mouth. “You want to tell me about it over breakfast?”

“Yeah,” says Nursey, grinning shakily. “Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You will prise this Nursey headcanon from my cold dead hands.


	3. Chapter 3

They sit at the table, eating the eggs that Nursey cooked, as Nursey tries to explain the one aspect of himself which, for all his self-aware introspection, he’s never quite been brave enough to articulate before.

As a kid, it was a dress-up thing. Nursey’s parents have always been chill about gender and sexuality, so nobody ever freaked out at him sometimes playing in his mom’s old clothes. At his first school, it was a theatre thing: he wasn’t the only student to mess around with the wardrobe department, and he was lucky enough to be around likeminded people then, students and staff both, who saw nothing odd or shameful in his fondness for crossdressing roles. But at Andover, it was a secret thing, because Nursey was older by then, knew enough about what he was and how he was perceived to feel conscious of all the invisible lines defining his behaviour, both expected and actual, and what it would mean to transgress them with just one more visible difference. He learned to keep his soft days quiet, to acknowledge them only in ways that were small or private enough to pass unnoticed to anyone other than himself, and to deal with the terrible itch in his skin when he couldn’t do even that much.

At Samwell, it’s a costume party thing, one made vastly easier by the Haus tradition – started by Shitty, perpetuated by Lardo, Holster, Rans and Bitty – of overtly genderbent and/or sexual costumes. Nobody on the team thinks twice if Holster dresses up as a sexy nurse in a pleather skirt for Halloween, so why would they care if Nursey rocks up to a costume-themed kegster as Cleopatra?

“I remember that,” says Dex, eyes momentarily glazing over. “I drank about a litre of tub juice so I’d be too drunk to do something wildly inappropriate to you.”

Nursey chuckles. “Ironic, given that I spent the first two hours of that party finding excuses to kneel or bend over where you could see me.”

“Believe me, I noticed. In fact, I, uh –” he hesitates, blushing hotly, “– had several dreams about it, later.”

“You dreamed about me?” says Nursey, charmed. And then, as understanding hits, “Oh my god. _William_. You had _wet dreams_ about me?”  

“Shut up,” Dex says, adorably pink-cheeked. “I can’t masturbate, but I can sure as hell get off in my sleep. Not that it happens often, but –”

“ _Fuuuuuck_ ,” Nursey breathes, delighted and a little aroused himself. “That’s hot.”

“It is _not_ ,” Dex says, stabbing aggressively at his eggs. “It’s messy and embarrassing.”

“No, the _cleanup_ is messy and embarrassing,” Nursey counters. “The fact that you dreamed so vividly about my fine ass that you came untouched, in your sleep, on multiple occasions? That is both hot _and_ flattering.”

“Shut up,” Dex says again, but he’s smiling this time.

“Anyway,” says Nursey, after they’ve both finished their eggs. “I just… I don’t really know if it’s a gender thing or just a gender-expression thing or a mix of both, but it’s always been there, and some days it feels more right than others. And I’ve always tried to keep it on the DL, but maybe… maybe I don’t have to anymore. Not with you or the guys, and certainly not once we graduate.” Dex reaches over and takes his hand, thumbing circles into the skin, and now it’s Nursey’s turn to flush, albeit less noticeably. “I love hockey, and I love that I get to play for the Wellies, but it’s never what I wanted my whole life to be. Playing at college works for me because there’s still an expectation that I study other things, meet other people, go to parties and talk shit with poets and whatever, but as a career? I’m not saying I’d turn it down cold if a team wanted to sign me, but I’d have to think hard about it. Like, I think half the reason I play as well as I do is _because_ I’m still doing other things, too. Take away that time and those outlets, and I’d go stir-crazy inside of a month. That’s not a knock on the rest of you – especially not you and Chowder, you know, I know getting signed is what you guys want – but at heart, I think I’m more like Bitty. I love other things, and I’m always gonna be hockey-adjacent, but it’s not my only passion.”

“I get it,” says Dex, fervently. “I really do. The crap that Bitty and Jack have to deal with now that they’re out together? That scares the shit out of me, because if I got signed… I mean, what you said to my dad about not going back in the closet, that’s true for me, too. It took me so long to properly come out at all, and after what happened the other day –”

He breaks off, pained, and rather than wait him out in silence, Nursey seizes the chance to move the conversation somewhere safe and comfortable.

“C’mon,” he says, tugging Dex to his feet and leading him back to bed. They end up lying down together, face to face, legs tangled on top of the blanket as Nursey plays with Dex’s fingers.

“If I get signed,” says Dex, quietly, “it’ll be as a player who was always out, not one who had to come out mid-career. Jack’s made it so I won’t be the first, but unless there’s a bunch of people decloseting between now and next year’s draft picks, it’s still not going to be easy. And whoever I’m – no.” He stops suddenly, snapping his jaw shut. Looks Nursey right in the eye and says, with barely a shake to his voice, “It’ll be you, Derek. I’ll be dating you, and that means you’ll end up dealing with all sorts of crap you shouldn’t have to deal with. And maybe you can handle that the same way you handled my parents, but for me? I’ll get slagged for what I am, sure, and maybe that means I’ll end up dropping my gloves on the ice a time or two, but if I hear those assholes laying into you, gossiping about you, insulting _you,_ right off the bat? I don’t know how I’ll handle that. I don’t know if I can.”

The rawness in his voice is unbearable; Nursey leans in and kisses him, shivering a little at the desperation with which Dex kisses back.

“So don’t tell them about me,” he says, bumping his nose against Dex’s. “Being out doesn’t mean you have to disclose who you’re dating straight away. And I _know_ you’re going to get signed – have you _seen_ your stats for the season?” He pauses a moment, feels the rightness of it settle within him. “We tell our friends and my family we’re together, but otherwise, we keep it private. You get signed, you tell your PR people what we are to each other, but there’s no immediate need to announce it or whatever. You get settled in the NHL, and nobody thinks it’s weird that we hang out all the time, because we’re teammates and friends and all that crap, and then, once you’re comfortable – once you’ve gotten over your rookie nerves or whatever, figured out how everything works – we go public.”

“Nursey,” Dex says, voice strangled. His eyes are even wider than when he first walked into the kitchen. “Sweetheart, I can’t – I can’t ask you to do that. I’m not hanging any shit on Jack for what he did before he came out, but you saw what it did to Bitty. He was miserable and lonely and messed up, and you –”

“– are not Bitty,” Nursey says, squeezing Dex’s hand. “And even if I was, it’s not the same scenario. Bitty wasn’t out to his family, and none of us even knew they were dating; that whole first stretch, he had to do alone, long distance, while studying, after literal years of build-up, at a point when there were no out NHL players at all, to say nothing of the fact that it was – and is – his first actual relationship. Of course that was fucking difficult for him; for both of them, in a whole lot of awful ways. And yet,” he adds, leaning in to kiss Dex’s cheek again, “you’ll notice they’re still together, even after everything. But if – when – we do this, it’s going to be different. I’ll have friends who know, and I’m not blaming Bitty for wanting to be out and proud about loving Jack to everyone with a pulse, but he’s coming from a different place than me. I don’t care what the world thinks about us; I just wanna be loved and known by the people that I love. As long as I have that, I’m chill. Laying off the PDA is a small price to pay for getting to watch you kick ass on the ice and make actual fucking history, y’know?” He runs a hand through Dex’s hair. “We’ve waited this long for each other, and this isn’t even… this is more like making _other people_ wait to see how awesome we are. But either way, we’re worth it. _You’re_ worth it, Will.”

Dex is breathing hard, and when he grips the back of Nursey’s neck, pulling him in to press their foreheads together, Nursey can feel him shaking. “I love you,” he chokes out. “Derek, I love you so fucking much, I’m not even sure I deserve what it is you’re offering, but I’m going to try, okay? Every game from now on, I’m playing to be worthy of you, of _this_.”

“You’re already worthy,” Nursey whispers, rolling closer. They’re needy now, hands roaming as they frot up against each other. “You don’t have to try to be, Dex – you just _are_.”

Dex kisses him, open-mouthed and urgent, and Nursey kisses back, rolling them so that he’s on top and Dex is pinned underneath. Dex laughs and rolls them again, and Nursey goes with it, kissing Dex all over his beautiful, freckled face. They’re both hard, and Nursey feels a frisson of possibility run through him: there’s so many things he wants to do with Dex, but right now, it’s Christmas, and one of them feels more like a possible gift than any other.

“Hey,” he murmurs, kissing Dex’s jaw. “Babe, can we try something?”

Dex lifts up a little, rakishly dishevelled. “Yeah?”

Nursey strokes his cheek, smiling slyly. “I want to see you touch yourself.”

Dex’s eyes blow wide. “You what?”

“I want to see you touch yourself,” Nursey says again. “Have you ever done that before? Ever tried to get yourself off with someone watching?”

“No,” Dex breathes. “Shit, that could – that could actually work.”

Nursey grins. “So let’s find out.”


	4. Chapter 4

Dex sits up against the headboard, one hand on his cock. He’s naked now, but Nursey is still in his skirt and necklace, kneeling in the space between Dex’s spread legs. His erection tents the fabric, but he doesn’t touch himself: instead, his palms are curled around Dex’s ankles, anchoring him gently.

“You ready?” Nursey asks. The way the morning light hits him through the bedroom window, he looks like some radiant pagan deity, androgynous and fay.

“Yeah,” says Dex, chest tight with anticipation. “Yeah, fuck –”

And with that, he starts to stroke himself.

It’s been so long since the last time he tried this that there’s a genuine moment of adjustment, trying to figure out what he likes and how to go about doing it. And there’s the usual nervous tug in his stomach, too, that years-old litany of _what if what if shameful hide_ that keeps him reliant on others for orgasm, and for a moment, he seizes up, convinced it’s not going to work. But then he feels Nursey’s hands on his ankles, looks up to take in the gorgeous sight of him, aroused and eager, watching Dex stroke his own cock. And just like that, his anxiety folds: he’s with someone, which means it’s okay, and oh, god, the sheer psychological _release_ of that fact – the knowledge that he really can make himself come this way, even if only under certain conditions – is like a dam breaking.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” he pants, gaze locked with Nursey’s as he strokes himself hard and fast, hips thrusting up eagerly, “this isn’t – shit, this isn’t going to take long –”

“Come on, then,” Nursey breathes, licking his lips. “Come on, show me, let me see –”

Dex spreads his legs wider, sliding far enough down the mattress that only his shoulders are pressed to the headboard, forcing Nursey to skim his hands further up his legs. He groans at the extra contact, and Nursey, sloe-eyed, takes full advantage of Dex’s reaction, fingers teasing lightly along his inner thighs.

“Come on,” he coaxes, “come on, you’re so close, you’re so good for me – so good for me, Will –”

Dex makes a wounded noise, his free hand coming up to grip the top of the headboard. He wavers on the edge for what feels like forever, muscles flexing as he fucks his fist, and suddenly he’s coming hard, warm salt spattering over his stomach.

“Oh, fuck,” he whispers – and watches, awed, as Nursey leans in and licks him clean, sucking on the tip of his oversensitive cock, then laving a path up his abs. Dex shudders and shakes, and when Nursey sits up again, he finds himself with an overwhelming need to do something of equal significance for Nursey, something else no one has ever done for him, either.

And all at once, he knows exactly what that is.

“Come here,” he says, pulling Nursey close. They kiss for a moment, slow and sweet, before Dex positions them so that Nursey is sitting between his legs, his own back once more supported by the headboard. He puts his mouth to Nursey’s ear and murmurs, “Let me take care of you, too.”

“Okay,” Nursey says. His breathing, already uneven, turns more ragged still as Dex strokes him lightly through the skirt, feeling the warm jut of his cock outlined beneath the soft fabric. It’s a wraparound, which means he could easily reach a hand under there without having to hike the whole thing up, but he doesn’t do that, not yet. Instead, he keeps the contact teasing, one palm pressed to Nursey’s stomach, feeling the muscles contract as he flexes with pleasure.

“You’re so beautiful,” Dex tells him, soft into Nursey’s ear. “So beautiful like this.”

Nursey’s breathing hitches, cock jumping under Dex’s hand.

“Y’know what you should do?” He lets his other hand drift higher, up until he’s toying with Nursey’s left nipple, feeling it peak and harden. Nursey whines, and Dex does the same with the other one, thrilling at the sense of control. “You should get them pierced. Gold bars, to match.” He fingers the line of the necklace, dragging the chain from side to side, so that it passes over each bud in turn. “Or maybe gold hoops, so that I could play with them.” He puts his mouth to the hoop in Nursey’s ear and gives a gentle, illustrative tug.

“ _Dex,_ ” Nursey gasps.

“You’re so gorgeous, sweetheart. Everyone should see how pretty you are.”

At the word _pretty_ , Nursey lets out a whimper. Dex keeps up his gentle touching, feeling the front of the skirt grow slick where Nursey is leaking precum.

“You like that?” Dex murmurs. “Like being pretty?”

Nursey makes a broken noise and jerks his head in assent. Dex kisses his neck, teeth scraping gently against the skin.

“You’re the prettiest sight I’ve ever seen,” says Dex. He thinks a moment, wondering which side of caution to err on, and realises abruptly that there’s a third option. “Angels aren’t male or female, did you know that? They’re not pretty like boys or pretty like girls; they’re pretty like both, and like themselves. Like something else altogether.” Nursey bucks under him, shuddering in response; Dex feels a rush of success, dropping more kisses across Nursey’s neck and shoulders. “ _Malik_. That’s you. I looked it up, once; I wanted to know more about you. Turns out, it’s a name of God.” He hesitates, making sure that what he says next is the right thing to say. “It has a feminine form, too. You want to know what it is?”

“ _Will_ ,” Nursey gasps, “oh god, Will, _please_ –”   

“Malika,” Dex says, softly. “You like that? It’s beautiful, just like you.” He kisses gently up Nursey’s neck, still teasing his nipples, his cock. “Would you like that, sweetheart? To be Malika?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Nursey sobs, “oh fuck oh please, Dex, I need you to touch me _now_ I need it I need it, _please_ –”

Dex slips his hand under the hem of the skirt and takes Nursey’s cock in hand, working him slow and steady. Nursey shudders all over, head tipped back against Dex’s shoulder – and Dex, in response to the invitation, slides his free hand up to Nursey’s throat, letting it rest there lightly as his thumb strokes back and forth.

Nursey gasps and thrashes, writhing in Dex’s grasp. Dex strokes him faster, whispers _pretty_ and _Malika,_ and Nursey comes with a drawn-out cry, white spilling as much on the skirt as Dex’s hand. Dex touches him through it, knowing by now that Nursey likes being overstimulated, only letting go when Nursey puts a hand on his and gently prises him off.

Dex obliges, turning Nursey in his arms so that they’re lying cradled together, Nursey’s head on Dex’s chest. Nursey is shivering slightly, but Dex won’t let him get cold; he snugs his arm tighter, and smiles to think of the scarf he just gave Nursey for Christmas, simple and cashmere and far too expensive for Dex’s budget, really, except that the shade of green was a perfect match for Nursey’s eyes, and how could he resist?

“How did you,” Nursey starts. He laughs weakly, clinging to Dex like a limpet. “How the fuck did you know to give me that?”

“It just seemed right,” says Dex, kissing the top of his head. “It was really okay?”

“Dex,” says Nursey, quietly, “you just gave me a name for myself, a word I didn’t have before and didn’t know I needed. _Okay_ is an understatement.”

“We should maybe, uh. Use other words? In the future? To talk this all through?”

Nursey considers this. “Safewords, you mean? Kink negotiation? That sort of thing?”

“Yeah, I think so. I just.” Dex hugs him even tighter, pressing a kiss to his hair. “I’ve never had sex like this before. Never this good, or this intense, and I don’t know if it’ll always feel like this or if what we’re doing even really qualifies, but god, I don’t wanna risk hurting you with something because I guess wrong instead of right.”

“Me, neither,” Nursey says. “It’s a good idea.” And then, after a moment, “We could ask Lardo for pointers, if you wanted.”

“ _Lardo?_ ”

“Yes, Lardo.” Nursey’s tone is full of amusement. “What, are you honestly claiming you’re unaware of her and Shitty’s kinky sex life?”

Dex groans, laughing as he presses his face to Nursey’s shoulder. “I _did not_ need to _know_ that.”

“Sharing is caring, Poindexter.”

“Bite me, Nurse.”

“Only,” says Nursey, in mock-strict tones, “if you check it off on your kink-list, first.”

“I regret my life,” says Dex, beseeching the ceiling for patience. “I regret my choices.”

Nursey raises a pointed eyebrow. “Really?”

Dex thinks of the signed Led Zepplin record that was Nursey’s Christmas present to him; of everything Nursey has ever given him, not just in the last two days, but since he came to Samwell, and of all the time Dex wasted before then being afraid of things that matter far, far less than what they were keeping him from.

“No,” he says softly, smiling at Nursey. He twines their fingers together. “Not anymore.”


End file.
